


People as Places

by biichan



Category: Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: F/M, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-25
Updated: 2008-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-05 00:31:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biichan/pseuds/biichan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You and I," he says, with some regret, "are past our dancing days."</p>
            </blockquote>





	People as Places

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to persiflage, amaresu, elyssadc, and calapine for being willing to look this over at the last minute.

"I always saw it as a large house at the foot of a mountain,  
littered with daisies and rainbows... that was the nature of the illusions.  
We'd see what we wanted to see."  
The Valeyard, _He Jests At Scars_

"I made this place and this place made me."   
Bianca, _The Wormery_

He finds himself in 1930s Berlin before the trial. He spends the day idly walking the city—hardly caring that his black and white robes mark him as a stranger—and it occurs to him, an hour before sunset, that Bianca's is still in business.

He goes to listen to her, of course, and it's different, somehow, now that he knows who she once was. The cabaret feels eminently familiar, despite all the centuries that lie behind him. The too-dark shadows, the queer mad scientists playing footsie under the table, the Irish waitress with the boy's name, and the SS thugs. Heinrich and Henry, Allis and Ballis—he remembers them all. Perfectly. Almost. And if he calls the Irish waitress "Ricky" once—or twice—or more—she's very forgiving about it.

She requests that he join her at her table in the shadows after her song. Of course he comes.

"You always were a shameless copy-cat," he tells her, as he raises his glass in toast.

She laughs and it's musical. She's changed as much as he has. He's glad—he doesn't miss the cackling of other, older skins. "I always thought you were flattered."

"Perhaps I was," he muses, admiring the way her hair curls around the shell of her ear. "When I wasn't exasperated. You could be—very—exasperating, you know."

"But not now." She's smiling at him. He finds himself smiling back.

"Come back with me after my last set," she whispers, taking his hands in hers. "I'll give you a sending off for the ages."

She is beautiful. He remembers thinking that all those lifetimes ago. He still thinks that now. He can see the way the artron energy dances around her.

A universe without Time Ladies is a cold, bitter place. He knows from experience.

"You and I," he says, with some regret, "are past our dancing days."

She smiles. "Is that a challenge, my dear?"

* * *

"Age cannot wither you," he whispers in the intimacy of the shadows. "Nor custom stale your infinite variety."

She laughs throatily and pulls him down so they are skin-to-skin. "You always did like me like this." He laughs too, with her, and she feels a warmth in her bones that she hasn't felt in years.

Her mouth is feather light on the underside of his throat; his clever fingers are just where she needs them. He makes her sing and she makes him sigh and at the end of it all he lies beside her, stroking her hair.

"Are you pleased?" he asks, preening just a little bit. "You've finally got what you've been chasing after all these lives."

She brushes her lips against his cheek. "I rather think it's you that's pleased you've been caught."

"Mmm. Perhaps." He shifts a bit and she tenses, but he doesn't get up, he doesn't leave her bed.

"I never understood," he whispers finally. "Why a bus of all things?"

She looks away. "I was hit by one, the first time I regenerated. That was when I remembered."

There is a tightness in his voice, one that echoes the tightness in her chest. "Remembered what?"

She doesn't say anything at first. His grip is suddenly tight on her arm, almost tight enough to leave bruises. "Remembered _what_? What did you forget?"

She closes her eyes, tight, and she can feel the cold wind blowing against her cheeks, can feel her Gramps' flowers nestled in her arms—irises, he'd always liked irises, so she'd bought some to place on his stone—she had just enough time to think _well, at least I'll be with Dad and Gramps_ before—

She hears herself speak in a calm, steady voice: "What you made me forget."

She opens her eyes again. His expression is incredulous. _Good_, she thinks.

"Do—" he starts.

She places a finger on his mouth. "_Bianca_," she says firmly.

He nods sickly. "Bianca."

"This time," she says firmly, "we're getting it _right_." And if not, she thinks, at least they can lick each other's wounds.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Big Finish Audio _The Wormery_ and the end of S4.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Dancing In The Shadows (The People are Places Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/633145) by [amaresu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaresu/pseuds/amaresu)




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